Page 108 of The Mortal Queen

“That wasn’t so difficult,” Lir said, and the Aithirnian queen heaved a clear breath, congested no more.

Five or so mortal sentinels escorted Ciar from the council after Sim agreed to be her voice for the remainder of the night. But no mortal guard, advisor, flaith, queen, or king dared unleash their eyes from Lir. Every twitch of his lips, every smooth movement, every flick of his eyes, beneath their scrutiny.

“I’m willing to excuse your use of enchantments for now,Damh Bán, but another spell and my patience will’ve been exhausted.” Nemed casually called the horrified barmaid over, gesturing for her to pour him another drink, frowning when she spilled cider across his plate.

Lir laughed but there was no humor in it. A sound that sent shivers down Aisling’s spine and for a moment, she believed even her father hesitated at its cadence.

“By all means, lose your composure.” The corners of Lir’s lips curled up. “As you mentioned earlier, it was you who requested this union. So, I suggest, high king, that lest this union slip through your mortal fingers, you avoid exhausting my patience and provoking me once more.”

Aisling’s stomach clenched; the dark authority the fae king exuded, spread throughout the tent like ivy. Wrapping around all that it touched and squeezing till it tasted every dissenting breath and smothered it.

Nemed smoldered as he tipped his glass back, too proud to release the fae king from his gaze.

“That won’t be necessary.” Feradach spoke up. “Besides I’m more interested in the current stability of your relationship with the Unseelie,Damh Bán.” All eyes turned towards the Roktan king.

“You see, I own over one thousand vessels spread throughout the Ashild and beyond. Every crewmate, captain, every stowaway aware of those creatures that lurk in the deep. No one is ignorant to the risks of sea voyage,especially considering the territory lines, the walls, the divisions between Seelie, Unseelie, and mortal worlds that exist on land are impossible to build or mark in the oceans. Unseelie encounters are, therefore, near inescapable at sea. But in the past several months, every one of my ships has had an encounter. Masts ripped to shreds, freightage lost, men either drowned or devoured, and entire carriers nothing more than splinters.”

“Is there a specific Unseelie committing the aggressions or several?” Filverel asked, leaning to one side in his chair.

“You didn’t answer my question,” Feradach countered, a flash of irritation cutting across the Roktan king’s bronzed features.

“You must first ask a question before it’s to be answered, Your Grace,” Peitho chimed.

Feradach levelled his temper. “Has your relationship with the Unseelie changed since Aisling’s union or not?”

“Yes,” Lir said rather bluntly, reminding Aisling of what he’d once told her:

“You believe we lie? It’s possible but difficult for us. To tell a mistruth requires great concentration and even then, it is poorly told.”

But Aisling was familiar with how cunning the Sidhe could be. How clever the Sidhe were regardless of their inability to outwardly lie.

“The Unseelie are chaotic in nature. For the most part, they lack moral dependency. Like the undomesticated animals and beasts your kind is familiar with, the Unseelie respond to social and instinctual cues far more than even the Sidhe. The chemistry and dynamics of a pack, a herd, a colony, a nest.” Lir stretched his fingers, curled them in, then repeated the motion. The veins that protruded on the back of his hands near spellbinding to the mortal queen.

“Take away their food source, take away the hunt for your kind—hammered into their bones by the Forge—and they’llreact, do anything in their power to steal it all back, beg their king to forsake the treaty. Devour the very princess who made such a union possible.” All eyes shot towards Aisling. For indeed the trow, the Cú Scáth, the fomorians had all attempted.

“Or,” Lir continued, licking his fangs, “find another monarch powerful enough to put an end to their losses: the destroying of boundaries and the lawless, uninhibited hunting of mortals. Someone more aligned with their chaos than even the Sidhe.”

The mortal sovereigns exchanged glances, as if speaking telepathically so none of the Sidhe nor Aisling could understand. And as the last words left Lir’s lips, Filverel’s entire form tensed. As if he’d deigned for his king to speak the truth, the whole truth. And for what reason? Lir cared little for his relationship with the mortals other than ensuring the benefits it awarded him. So, Aisling could only assume that the truth would get Lir whatever it was he desired.

“And is there another? One who is stronger, more powerful than you?” Sim asked, his pale hair falling into his eyes.

“No,” Lir said simply, his axes catching the light of the fire. “Never has there been. Never will there be.”

Aisling’s skin shivered at his words. A flock of silver-eyed ravens flapping madly within her belly.

“The Unseelie then,” the Bregganite king interjected. “They retaliate against your authority, Sidhe law, rejecting your sovereignty now that it no longer benefits them?”

Lir swallowed his annoyance––Aisling knew by the tightening of his jaw––silently nodding his head in response.

“What now,Damh Bán?” Nemed asked. “Our treaty explicitly agreed to new conditions amongst our kind, to the end of war, the burning of forests and Sidhe villages. All in exchange for the ceasing of Sidhe and Unseelie violence towards mankind lest they venture into your respectivelands. Only then would such an agreement be revoked. But now, it appears your own kingdom turns their bloodlust against you, threatens to dethrone theDamh Bán, and the mortals suffer regardless of our alliance. I didn’t exchange my daughter for nothing, and you’ve been unsuccessful in upholding your end of the deal.”

“Negotiations with the Unseelie are still ongoing,” Galad said.

“And how many more of my men, my ships, will be lost while you negotiate?” Feradach raised his voice, losing patience.

“Is it just me or does it appear more and more as if the Faerak truly are useless?” Peitho’s lips curled, eyes fluttering mockingly in the Roktan prince’s direction.

But Dagfin didn’t take the bait. “The Faerak hunt and slaughter the Unseelie to protect mortals and their livelihoods. Not to remedy the mistakes of Sidhe kings.” He met Peitho’s smirk with a smug expression of his own, staking his knife into the table.

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